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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045713">Postscript</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illgetmerope/pseuds/Illgetmerope'>Illgetmerope</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Emmerdale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Romance, Future Fic, Infidelity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Reunions, Romance, True Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:14:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,804</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illgetmerope/pseuds/Illgetmerope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron has rebuilt his life after Robert.</p><p>But given the chance for another start? He'd throw it all away.</p><p>It's Robert. It's always been Robert.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>323</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic all started because I wanted to write about chapped lips in something other than a kiss. Plus it's cold and windy here.</p><p>So many thanks to my wonderful as ever beta, @rustandruin. The fic would be bonkers without them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dry winter air cuts through Aaron’s layers, slicing across his skin and sinking into his bones. </p><p>His lips are chapped, skin catching slightly on his teeth as he worries his lower lip. He licks them again, knowing it will only make it worse, but needing the momentary relief.</p><p>The thin skin across his knuckles is red and tight from the cold, so he stuffs them into his pockets, leaning back against the freezing metal of the car and curling his shoulders in as a buffer.</p><p>He’s spent three days here. Silently watching as the angry teeth of winter gnaw away at him.</p><p>The lights in the small cottage click on as the daylight fades. A shape moves around behind the curtains.</p><p>Three days. No one has come in or out, but smoke has poured from the chimney, and the lights flick on and off, and the shape moves inside.</p><p>Aaron’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He knows it’ll say the same message they’ve all said this week.</p><p>
  <em>When are you coming back?</em>
</p><p>He hasn’t put words to that thought yet. Doesn’t know how to respond. Knows he’s got a life in Emmerdale. A home and a partner.</p><p>But the cold has eroded away his excuses and the wind has filled his lungs with the hope of breathing again.</p><p>The shape moves in front of the light, making it flicker across the curtains.</p><p>Aaron drags his teeth across his aching lip and he thinks about the response he should type. The one he would write if he were a better man.</p><p>
  <em>If he’ll still have me? I’m not.</em>
</p><p>He watches the house in silence, stomach uneasy. Swallows around the words caught in his throat, wipes away the watering of his eyes against the wind.</p><p>A second light clicks on on the second floor, contrasting with the swiftly falling dark.</p><p>Aaron pushes himself off the car, eyes caught on the upper windows. He can’t see in, the curtains have been shut against every angle of the outside world.</p><p>He licks his lip again, notices the sting of a crack, and shakes his head. He opens the door of the car and slides in, knees aching a little from the cold and being on the wrong side of forty. </p><p>He grips the wheel tight, nearly misses the constant scouring of the wind against his skin.</p><p>Tomorrow. He’ll knock tomorrow.</p><p>————————————————————————</p><p> </p><p>The bed in the inn is hard. It creaks ominously under Aaron’s weight, old yellowed quilt wrinkling beneath his hand as he kicks off his shoes. </p><p>He rolls his shoulders, makes eye contact with himself in the mirror, traces the over grey in his beard. Notes the circles under his eyes and the pink in his cheeks from the chill.</p><p>He scrubs his hands over his face, tries to wipe away the doubts creeping in as they always do.</p><p>
  <em>Who’d want you? Damaged goods.</em>
</p><p>The voice belongs to someone long dead, but decades don’t silence it.</p><p>His phone buzzes again. Dozens of missed calls and texts slowly building to a storm of worry. A constant stream of noise from all of them.</p><p>He can’t look at them, can’t until he knows for sure who is in that cottage.</p><p>He hasn’t let himself think his name, hasn’t had anything but nights of dreams of a deep voice professing secrets and freckled shoulders beneath Aaron’s hands. He’s woken up brittle and aching, reaching out for someone other than the man beside him each morning.</p><p>He swallows around the lump in his throat. It’s been there for nearly fifteen years. A goodbye he never got to say.</p><p>He scratches blunt nails across dry skin on his hands, watches the wake of white then pink on his skin. Presses harder to ground himself, to focus on whatever it is he’s doing. He knows he can’t stay like this. In this odd grey space between knowing and wishing.</p><p>Aaron’s sure it’s him in that quiet cottage, bundled away from everything. But if he’s wrong he doesn’t have any pieces of their life left to burn as fuel for hope.</p><p>He reaches to the bedside table. Looks at the postcard of the town center, edges worn and cracked from being stuffed into his pocket. Bent in the middle from where he sat on the drive north.</p><p>It had arrived two weeks ago. Blank except for the address to the Mill in handwriting he still knows as well as his own.</p><p>He traces the letters of <em>Aaron Dingle</em>, the way they are carefully printed, as if maybe the writer had been unsure of the wisdom of his choice. Allows himself a moment to ache for the name that used to separate those two words.</p><p>He doesn’t regret changing his name back, it had become too hard with each year to deal with seeing Sugden nestled next to Dingle on every piece of paper that came through the post. A decade later and he’d managed to scrub away those six letters from nearly every corner of his life. </p><p>His mind slips back to the locked box in a bank in Hotten he’s only been to twice. Until a week ago there’d been a sealed envelope inside containing a watch and two rings. The envelope is stuffed in the glovebox of his car. He couldn’t bring it inside the inn with him. Can’t spend more nights sleeping next to the rings without something concrete.</p><p>His phone buzzes again. Liv’s name across the screen, making Aaron’s stomach wrench. They don’t talk as much any more. She’s moved to Dublin where she works in a gallery and lives with a couple who love and care for her.</p><p>He rejects the call. Stares down at the screen and the countless notifications of slowly mounting concern. </p><p>He opens the texts from Liv but doesn’t read them.</p><p>
  <em>Tell them I’m fine. I need to do this.</em>
</p><p>The typing bubbles appear immediately in response.</p><p>
  <em>Promise me you’re not in danger.</em>
</p><p>He pauses, thinking about the right answer.</p><p>
  <em>I promise.</em>
</p><p>It’s not a lie, but it feels like one. He won’t have any scars if this all goes to hell, but the part of his heart that he’s been protecting ever since he was lunged for in a layby, that piece will be burnt to ash. </p><p>The photograph of him and Will stares back at him from his lock screen. He turns his phone off, not needing the pecking at his conscience. </p><p>————————————————————————</p><p> </p><p>Lying on sheets worn soft from age staring at a water-damaged corner of the ceiling gives Aaron too much space for uncertainty and twisting darkness.</p><p>He squeezes his eyes tight against the encroaching panic and practices what his therapist taught him. Focusing on his breathing and counting things he knows are true. </p><p>
  <em>I am Aaron Dingle. I live in Emmerdale. I have two half sisters. I run a scrapyard. My mum owns the Woolpack. My partner owns the cafe. I was married once. </em>
</p><p>His thoughts are spiraling in on themselves, the seeping oil of guilt slides across his skin. </p><p>
  <em>My ex husband was in prison. My partner’s name is Will. We’ve been together for six years next month. He makes me laugh.</em>
</p><p>His heart is hammering, and he can’t stop the thoughts. He knows what he should do: recenter, try and quiet it all, focus on the tangible.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t love him enough. He’s not enough.</em>
</p><p>He throws the blanket off himself, unable to stay still anymore. It’s just gone three and he aches with exhaustion, but there’s no way he’ll be able to fall asleep now.</p><p>He begins a bath, hoping the warmth will seep into his bones, keep him strong in the face of what he’s got ahead. That it will relax the tension turning his back into thick wire cables.</p><p>
  <em>Too many years of hard graft.</em>
</p><p>The voice in his head is affectionate and teasing. It’s one he last heard from the speakers of his computer what feels like a lifetime ago. Aaron wonders if it’s possible to be haunted by someone still alive. </p><p>He slips into the water, hissing as the heat hits his chilled skin. Slips down so his head is submerged, the comforting rush of water pushing against his ears the only thing he can hear.</p><p>
  <em>You wish.</em>
</p><p>He pushes back up and out, resting his head on the rim of the tub, squeezing his eyes shut and choking out a quiet sob.</p><p>There were years when he only thought of him on tough days. He survived by avoiding back roads and barns and garages, going on weekend trips with Will or volunteering for a long scrap run.</p><p>But mostly he’d been fine. Happy even. Sitting out in the garden in the summer, Will grilling burgers while they drink beers and laugh at Daisy, Will’s geriactric beagle. Going to films together and sharing popcorn while rating explosions.</p><p>It was easy. Easy in a way Aaron hadn’t thought he’d find again.</p><p>He scrubs his face, the itching guilt scratching over his skin, leaving him feeling raw.</p><p>His mind slips back to the way he felt when he saw the card nestled amongst bills and coupons. The way his blood had rushed through his veins, heart soaring and cracking and burning all at once. </p><p>He’s never been that interested in easy.</p><p>
  <em>Messed up with you forever.</em>
</p><p>The water is growing cold, and his knots have loosened enough that pushing himself out of the bath feels less impossible. He wraps himself in a towel, not caring that he’s tracking damp footprints across the carpet of the room.</p><p>There’s an electric kettle near the bed, and he clicks it on, knowing he’ll need the fuel for whatever happens.</p><p>————————————————————————</p><p> </p><p>He sits for a couple hours, sipping tea and trying to quiet the emotions churning in his chest. Back curled up against the headboard of the bed, one leg hugged to his body, chin resting on his knee. </p><p>He stares into the middle nothing as the room brightens around him, feels the prickles of his leg falling asleep even as he remains painfully awake. </p><p>The inn has begun to fill with noise as it wakes up. He can hear someone showering, the muffled creaks of footsteps on the ceiling above. The walls are thin enough he can hear the alarm tone from someone’s phone. The generic chimes snoozed twice.</p><p>He looks at the clock, relieved that it’s nearly 6:30. </p><p>If he’s still on prison time he’ll be getting up now.</p><p>Aaron knows that the schedule slowly molds an inmate. All night owls become accustomed to the ebb and flow of life inside. </p><p>He used to love to lay in bed on Saturdays while our room became bright from the sun.</p><p>He digs his nails into his palm, not needing to retreat into memories long gone. </p><p>They’re all grey and hazy now even in his dreams. Slowly degrading in quality like the Prison Break boxset that has gathered dust in a corner closet. Will had elbowed him while cleaning and whispered that he’d always thought Wentworth Miller was fit and that he thought Aaron would look good with a couple of tattoos. </p><p>Aaron shakes off the weekend memories of both men, pulling himself in and together. He gets dressed and tugs on shoes. </p><p>He avoids looking in the mirror when he’s done. Doesn’t need the visual reminder of the passage of time, the suspicion that he’s changed too much, that he’s too far removed from the man that used to be loved. Loved in a way that made him feel like he was on fire.</p><p>He pulls on another layer, knowing the chilled air is worse in the half light of morning. Needing the armor against the blustering doubts that threaten to blow him over.</p><p>He looks around at the room before he leaves, needing something, anything, to tell him the choice he’s making is the right one. The postcard sits where he left it, white line of the fold cracking through the image. He tucks it into his pocket, the only scrap he’s sure of.</p><p>He passes the front desk and the woman behind it watches him leave. He doesn’t know what she thinks of him, leaving early each day and returning late, windswept with red-rimmed eyes.</p><p>He passes a couple on the short walk to the car park, arm in arm on their morning commute. Sees a woman walking her dog. Hears the town coming to life. </p><p>He climbs into his car and sighs when the world is shut out around him. His stomach is in knots, palms clammy and tingling.</p><p>He rests his forehead on the wheel.</p><p>
  <em>Last chance. You could turn around and go back. Tell them all you had a wobble. Go back to therapy. Get over him.</em>
</p><p>The thought makes his heart race, stomach rolling. </p><p>
  <em>I have to know.</em>
</p><p>————————————————————————</p><p> </p><p>The cottage shows as much life as it ever has. There’s lights on behind the curtains, barely visible in the grey.</p><p>Aaron sits in the car feeling wrong footed. He leans to the side, opening the glove box and pulling out the envelope. It’s been sealed for a decade.</p><p>He tears it open, pouring out the rings and watch.</p><p>The two circles sit in his palm, one is scuffed and a bit smaller. He tucks that one into his pocket, feels the chilly indent of it pressing into his thigh.</p><p>They weigh almost nothing but his soul feels like it’s tearing from their pull.</p><p>He tucks the other and the watch into his jacket pocket. Keeps a hand on them as he climbs out, feels their radiating significance in his bones.</p><p>He knows every inch of them. Had kept them in a drawer near his bed for a year, shoved them farther and farther back into the corner as his heart crumbled. They’d moved to a shoebox in the closet after a while. Taken out when Aaron had too much beer and emptiness and echoes off the walls of their room. Finally moved to the deposit box when he’d had enough of feeling like an Aaron shaped shell, and had begun to collect himself and move on.</p><p>His feet move without a plan, taking him towards the door, tears already pricking at the corners of his eyes. </p><p>It’s a short walk, and too soon he’s at the wooden door. Nondescript, a quiet blue, with lightly worn areas at the edges and handle. The real estate agent in town had said it was the only place she’d sold to a single man that year.</p><p>Apparently it’s a buyers market. He got it for a song.</p><p>She wouldn’t tell Aaron his name, privacy laws and all that.</p><p>Aaron lifts his hand to the bell, breath frozen in his chest, the rushing of blood loud in his ears. He slips the tip of his finger in his pocket into the ring, pinches it slightly and feels the metal warm to his skin.</p><p>He swallows and pushes. A muffled buzz inside responds to the press.</p><p>He can hear footsteps approach the door, and then a pause. The person inside is hesitating. There’s no peephole, no way to know why there’s a noise at the door at seven in the morning. Aaron can’t clear his throat, can’t find a word to say through the wood. He’s lost, his lips are worn ragged from worrying them and the ever present chill, and he licks them as he tries to remember how to speak.</p><p>The handle turns, door opening cautiously to reveal a man who, for the past fifteen years, Aaron has only seen trapped within the confines of a frame or digitally rendered on a screen. The reality of him is blindingly sharp and complex.</p><p>They’re frozen for a moment, mouths open in matching inhales. </p><p>“Robert.” The name falls from Aaron’s lips in a rush. A rumble of two syllables he’s not allowed himself to even think since the card came. </p><p>————————————————————————</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aaron sways forward, reaching out to touch, to confirm, to <em> feel</em>.</p>
<p>Robert starts back, breathing harshly. Eyes darting to Aaron’s hands like a stray not used to human kindness. Aaron opens his palms in silent promise, hovering in the endless years of space between them.</p>
<p>He watches carefully as Robert seems to calm. Scans over the other man’s face. Tracking the way the freckles stand stark against his too-pale skin. The shadows under his eyes deeper than they were. The skin across his cheeks a little more brittle, small lines framing his face. There’s a new hardness in his jaw, a set to his shoulders.</p>
<p>But he’s real. He’s alive. The clouds of his breath hang between them, swirling and filling the gap.</p>
<p>Robert opens and closes his mouth, gaping at Aaron. Aaron can’t help but watch his lips, stuck on the knowledge of how they feel on every inch of his skin. He leans in unconsciously, drawn in by everything that is Robert.</p>
<p>Robert steps back, stunned out of his silence by Aaron’s approach, “Erm.” He gestures awkwardly, “Come in.”</p>
<p>Aaron frowns but follows. He’s not letting the door close between them.</p>
<p>There’s a silent shuffle as Robert lets him through and then focuses on closing the door behind them, locking it and sliding a bolt in place.</p>
<p>Aaron can’t help but notice that Robert never has his back turned to Aaron. That he keeps him in his periphery, shoulders taut.  </p>
<p>It’s only seconds, but it feels like time has slowed to a crawl, Aaron unwilling to look away from this Robert, certain that if he closes his eyes he’ll wake back up in the horrible inn and have to go through all this again.</p>
<p>The proximity of Robert is setting him alight, embers and sparks filling his chest. He rocks on his toes, buzzing with it. He wants to scream and grab and press his fingertips into Robert’s arms, make him say <em> something</em>. </p>
<p>“Robert?” Aaron needs him in this moment, needs him to confirm that this is no simple social call. That it also means something to Robert to see him.</p>
<p>Robert turns and straightens, looking more assured and yet somehow still hollow. The way he can’t quite meet Aaron’s eyes hurts more than the silence.</p>
<p>Aaron waits a beat. He’s learned some patience in the decades since they met. Robert stares resolutely at the floor, jaw working and hands pulled into a jumper that’s hanging off his frame.</p>
<p>“Nothing? Still?” Aaron gives in to the fire and lashes out, can feel his face growing red with anger. “<em>You </em> did this, Robert. <em> You </em> told me you were here.” </p>
<p>His voice breaks and he hates how he can feel the pinpricks of tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.</p>
<p>His volume makes Robert startle, finally meeting Aaron’s eyes and stepping back, defensive. It stops Aaron from advancing, makes him swallow down his anger. </p>
<p>
  <em> Breathe. </em>
</p>
<p>Robert opens his mouth, licks his lips uncertainly. </p>
<p>“I didn’t…” His voice is soft, trembling a bit, “I didn’t know if you’d care.”</p>
<p>The floor falls out below Aaron. His stomach dips and his fingertips go cold. “What?” He snarls.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to assume—” Robert’s looking down again, long lashes blocking his eyes, and Aaron lunges forward, fisting his hands in the soft jumper and shoving him against the wall.</p>
<p>“We were <em> married</em>, Robert!” </p>
<p>Robert looks terrified, but Aaron can’t stop the way his words hiss out from between bared teeth, “You don’t <em> get </em> to decide for me. Cutting me out may have been easier for you, but it fucking <em> killed </em> me.” </p>
<p>Robert springs to the offensive, shoving his hands into Aaron’s chest and pushing hard enough that it knocks the breath from his lungs, forces him back a meter. He’s shaking, eyes wide and honed in on Aaron. </p>
<p>He shoots a hand out, long arm extended and palm up. “<em>Don’t </em> grab me.” What little color he had had is drained from his cheeks. He takes a settling breath, one hand still out, the other tightly clenched into a fist. </p>
<p>Aaron steps forward, “God, I—”</p>
<p>Robert doesn’t flinch this time, just sets his foot back. Aaron recognizes the fighter’s stance for what it is: a warning. He relaxes his shoulders in response, leans backwards, stomach flipping from seeing Robert so afraid.</p>
<p>
  <em> You did that.  </em>
</p>
<p>He steps back, shoves his hands into his pockets, and feels the watch and ring. </p>
<p>
  <em> Maybe that man isn’t here anymore. </em>
</p>
<p>He squeezes his eyes shut against that thought. Runs his fingers across the metal in his hand. </p>
<p>“It wasn’t easy.” Robert’s voice is strained, making Aaron look at him. His jaw is tight and he’s lowered his hands, pulling them back into his sleeves. “Nothing about what I did was <em> easy</em>.” </p>
<p>Robert breathes in shakily, “but if the only thing I had to live for was you, if the <em> only </em> good in my life was an hour every fortnight?” He shakes his head, “while you’re free, and that hour starts to be a burden?”</p>
<p>He holds Aaron’s gaze, eyes sorrowful. “Then better to have nothing.”</p>
<p>His face is so raw, so certain, that it pierces through Aaron. He shakes his head, wipes a tear from his eye. “It wouldn’t’ve been a burden.”</p>
<p>“You can’t know that. I couldn’t risk it.” He gestures at himself, “I barely made it out in one piece. If I’d seen you fall out of love, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”</p>
<p>Aaron lets himself take in Robert. The way he’s gone wiry and gaunt, the lightening hair at his temples. There’s some scarring by his eye, maybe a new bump in his nose. Signs of prison fights ending with bloody knuckles. He’s lived hard these past fifteen years and he looks it.</p>
<p>He’s also still the most beautiful man Aaron’s ever seen.</p>
<p>“Did <em> you</em>?” The question springs to his lips without much thought.</p>
<p>Robert frowns, looking confused.</p>
<p>Aaron tentatively steps forward, “Did you fall out of love?”</p>
<p>Robert eyes are glassy, his tongue sticks out slightly as he shakes his head while looking just over Aaron’s shoulder. “Don’t.” His voice breaks on the vowel.</p>
<p>Aaron takes another step, “Did you?”</p>
<p>Robert’s chin wobbles, his lips downturned at the edges, “Vic says you’re happy.”</p>
<p>Aaron’s heart feels wrung out. He steps into Robert’s space slowly, allowing for him to move back if he wants. He tilts his head to hold Robert’s gaze. </p>
<p>“I never did.” </p>
<p>It’s a low whisper, a promise.</p>
<p>Robert blinks, leans into the gap between them, hovering achingly close, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s you, it always will be.”</p>
<p>Robert’s admission makes a bloom of heat burst at the center of Aaron’s chest, warm from his ribs to his collar bones.</p>
<p>Aaron tilts his head up in invitation, allowing for Robert to make the move, not wanting to startle him away. He’s been here before, making a space for Robert to lean in.</p>
<p>Robert’s eyes flick down to Aaron’s lips, and he licks them in anticipation, feeling the catch of skin on his tongue. </p>
<p>There’s an achingly familiar moment when Aaron’s certain Robert’s going to back off, but then his hand comes up to rest along Aaron’s jaw, thumb swiping across his lower lip, following the path Aaron’s tongue just took.</p>
<p>He can’t be sure which of their breaths catch as Robert leans in and presses their lips together, but Aaron knows his heart hasn’t beaten like this since the last time they kissed. Robert’s lips feel electric, and Aaron’s hands hover for a moment before settling at the other man’s hips. </p>
<p>Robert angles his head, deepening the kiss, trembling fingers keeping Aaron in place. </p>
<p>Robert kisses like he’s gasping for the air in Aaron’s lungs, like he’s also had a pile of ash filling half his lungs for the past fifteen years, never allowing for an inhale.</p>
<p>Aaron tightens his grip reflexively, needing to have him closer. He feels the way Robert tenses underneath his fingers, the way he twists away and freezes, breaking the connection with a sharp hiss. </p>
<p>“Don’t.”</p>
<p>Aaron opens his mouth to apologize, but Robert’s hands have slipped down to pull him off and intertwine their fingers, and he can’t remember the last time he felt enveloped like this. Robert’s hands have held him through worse things than he can think of, and they built the happiest times he’s ever had.</p>
<p>
  <em> All that I am I give to you. </em>
</p>
<p>“Aaron.” Robert exhales, resting their foreheads together, wiping a tear off Aaron’s cheek. </p>
<p>Aaron keeps his eyes shut, feels the new rough edges to Robert’s hands, the rasp of lightly callused fingertips pressed against his skin. He’s shaking, knees weak. </p>
<p><em> Robert Robert Robert </em>his whole mind is whispering the rhythm in sync with his heartbeat.</p>
<p>They stand there silently, hands clasped together, sharing the air between them, reveling in the simple feel of each other. </p>
<p>Eventually Aaron opens his eyes, the blurry closeness of Robert feeling unreal. There’s something strange and surreal about the moment. They haven’t even left the hallway. It makes Aaron huff out a laugh, pulling back a bit to look at Robert’s face.</p>
<p>“Any chance for a brew?” The painful lack of sleep the night before is clawing at his mind, screaming at him to rest.</p>
<p>Robert looks around them, seemingly realizing the reality of their situation. “Yeah, it’s just through there.” He nods down the hall to a door.</p>
<p>There’s a moment where they stare at their linked hands, the knot they’ve woven themselves into. Robert is the first to make the move, pulling his fingers away from Aaron’s.</p>
<p>Aaron can’t help but feel a chill. And from the way Robert’s hands retreat into his pockets it seems he does too, shoulders curling in a bit. It makes Aaron want to wrap his arms around the taller man, tuck his chin over his shoulder and pull him close, but he stays in his own space, keeping his eyes on Robert. </p>
<p>
  <em> I’ll wait. Until you’re ready. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know, it's short, but I felt like it was the right moment to break! More is coming.<br/>&lt;3 Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aaron can’t keep himself from noticing that Robert’s kitchen is nothing like theirs was. It is all warm wood with basic, utilitarian items in defined areas. When he opens the cabinets there’s a stack of three plates and two bowls, all grey. The mugs he pulls down are white and too small for Robert’s hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s achingly sterile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no signs of Robert’s old flair for the eclectic. The only bit of a life is a photograph of Vic and her family held to the fridge with a plain black magnet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’d had colorful letters.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kitchen at the Mill has been repainted in something Liv called heather. She had claimed it was proven to improve the taste of food all while making significant faces at Aaron with Will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will’s herb garden takes up space by the window, their printed novelty tea towels hanging off installed handles. His mum had found them special ones with wellies all over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Three years ago they’d had a Dingle-do just for Will.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pasta machine had made its way to Marlon’s at some point, Aaron unwilling to chuck it away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert’s gone silent again, placing the mugs next to the kettle, tea bag in each. He glances at Aaron as he reaches for the sugar, waits for his nod before adding a spoonful to each mug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert is in jeans and plain black socks. Aaron is still in his puffy jacket and boots. He can’t remove the jacket without taking out the ring and watch, and he doesn’t think he can manage that just yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert keeps his back to the cabinets, hand on the kettle for when it boils. He keeps his gaze fixed on the table between them, seemingly at a loss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a matter of feet separating them, but it feels like leagues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron pulls out a chair, decides to let Robert keep the shield of the table between them. He sits down, rests his forearms on the tabletop, hooks his heels onto the crossbar between the legs, and waits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s wrung out, defenses weak as cellophane, and all he wants to do is make </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robert come back. Talk to him like they used to, roll his eyes at Robert’s swagger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You love it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he can tell Robert’s ready to bolt. That he’s only barely keeping himself in place for Aaron’s sake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows that feeling, that nowhere is safe anymore, every shadow hiding something, every movement an attack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kettle clicks off, even the small noise making Robert flinch. He turns and fills their cups, sliding one across the table to Aaron before sitting down at the other side. He moves gingerly, eyes narrowing as he bends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron watches Robert settle, pull the cup towards himself, and wrap long fingers around it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t…” Robert speaks while staring into the tea. “I don’t know what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron swallows around the easy answer, knowing Robert deserves more than that. “I’ve missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert’s fingertips press into the cup, going white with pressure. “You’re with someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron’s insides twist painfully. He bites his bottom lip and nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can feel Robert’s eyes on him, knows he should do more than just acknowledge the existence of Will.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He isn’t you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert huffs out a breath, shifting slightly, “Bet that was most of the appeal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron frowns, shaking his head, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “It wasn’t like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s something detached in Robert’s tone. “Come on, it’s got to be nice, meeting a man who’s nothing like your disaster of an ex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron can’t keep himself from putting his mug down forcefully, sloshing a bit of tea onto his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who made me single.” He wipes the liquid onto his sleeve bitterly, “After I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten myself together Will was there for me, a good mate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Their first kiss was during a late movie night on Will’s couch, breathless from laughter, room dark, the bitter bite of lager on both their tongues.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a good man, and he doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron rubs a hand across his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert has gone still, like he expects a blow. It makes Aaron ache. “He’s been living as my second choice for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I’ve let him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I told him I didn’t ever want to get married again. That I’d done it once.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re it for me. And I can’t go back, not knowing you’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert licks his lips, “You were meant to be happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was, mostly.” Aaron can admit that, even now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert curls in a bit, shrinking even more, but nodding. “Vic gave me updates every so often. After she finally got me to let her visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron nods, Harry had let that slip once, that his mum was visiting his uncle who lived far away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron had broken a set of bowls and fucked a blonde stranger against a wall behind a club.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She said you’d healed. Settled down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron thinks about the years of poor choices that had preceded Will. The years of rolling waves of anger and hurt that had settled into loneliness. The isolation he’d felt. The emptiness that had settled a shadow over everything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kind new owner of the cafe that had snuck cookies onto his plate to make him smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s lots of types of happy.” Aaron shrugs, “What we had was different from what he and I have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Green eyes meet blue, full of uncertainty. “I’m not the same man I was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron quirks a sad half-smile, “Me neither.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert’s jaw works, “I mean it, Aaron.” He fiddles with the string of the tea bag. “I don’t know if I can be…” he waves vaguely in the air, “who you loved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blood rushes in Aaron’s ears, makes him interrupt, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Love</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert pauses, rubbing his palms on his thighs nervously. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself for something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, Aaron. I promised you I wouldn’t do that again, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Vic told me how the first few years were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Vic had found him one night, shards of a whiskey bottle all around him, face tight from tear tracks that had dried. He’d been good at hiding it. Good at smiling at the right moments and getting on with the day. But it was December and there were too many places where Robert had used to fit. So he’d told people he was going out, turned off the lights in the Mill, sat down in the dark on the floor, and drank until he could nearly forget how much he hurt.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re better now. You’re better without me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron shakes his head, mouth full of arguments, but he stops himself. Clearly Robert needs to have his say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert shifts in discomfort, “You know.” He looks up at Aaron, “I’m yours forever, but I don’t think you should be mine anymore.” The way his voice breaks makes Aaron’s resolve for silence crumble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron shoves the chair back and stands, fists tight. He hates how it makes Robert flinch back, but he can’t sit and listen to this anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m done with the self-sacrifice, Robert. I’m done denying myself what I want because something else is </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> for me.” He steps around the table, giving Robert plenty of warning of his approach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s within arms distance when he exhales. “I’ve been in love with you for nearly two decades. If you don’t want this, say so, but I’m done waiting for what I have to live up to what we had.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert is frozen, mouth slightly agape, looking up. Aaron can see how he’s teetering on the edge of giving in. He’s careful to leave Robert an escape, to not box him in as he leans down to put them close to eye level. Holds the other man’s gaze for a beat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>choose</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert’s brows come together slightly, mouth open with a protest, but Aaron shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I. Choose. You.” He emphasizes his words, needing Robert to hear him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert shuts his mouth, eyes wide, but there’s a quiet hope in them that brings Aaron’s heart into his throat. He closes the distance, brings their lips together, needs to seal the promise he’s making.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a pause while Robert is unmoving, his lips slack and soft against Aaron’s weathered ones. But then he surges up, standing and pushing Aaron back so he’s leaning against the counter, letting Robert control the pace, palms on the countertop holding them up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert’s hands grasp at Aaron’s jacket, the puff muting the experience, but the pressure is still as electric as it has ever been. He moves them to Aaron’s face, fingertips along his neck and palms cradling his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Robert licks into his mouth Aaron hums because he tastes like oversteeped tea and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robert</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron tilts his head back a bit, forcing him closer as Robert chases his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Haven’t kissed a taller bloke in seven years.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron shoves the thought away, needing everything in him to keep his hands to himself, to let Robert call the shots. His arms are shaking and his knuckles white. All he wants is to touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert breaks the kiss, mumbling against Aaron’s lips, “Arms would be alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron’s hands fly to Robert’s biceps, feeling them tense beneath his palms at the movement, but Robert nods, brushing their noses together and leaning back in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron loves Robert’s arms. The solid weight of them, the breadth. He slides his hands up and down, grounding himself as the world melts around them. Slick slide of Robert’s tongue and light nip of his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s always been like this. Heady and intoxicating. Even when it was bad this was too good to lose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands have felt their way to Robert’s shoulders, Robert’s arms are wrapped around him, their legs are slotted together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A phone starts ringing startling Robert back and making him search the room for the sound, pupils contracting as he looks for a threat. It takes him a beat to recognize the sound, and he looks at Aaron sheepishly, stepping back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to get it. Vic’s the only one with the number and I always pick up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron nods, brought back to the sad lifeless kitchen and the real world. He pulls his own phone from his pocket, stares at the black screen, and feels the pins and needles of fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to tell them the truth.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>——————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, I hope this chapter was a bit happier for people! I know it's been pretty angsty...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aaron decides to finally shrug off his jacket and its contents, checking that they don’t fall out while Robert isn’t in the room to see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves to the fridge, looks at the picture of Vic and her two kids, scrunches his nose up at her boring prat of a husband. He’s a bonds portfolio manager who can’t hold a conversation without making Aaron fall asleep. But he loves Vic so much that Aaron can sit through a dinner with him every other month for her sake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanders out to the small living room where Robert’s talking on the phone, voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tell her I haven’t seen him.” His eyes flick up to Aaron when he hears his steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the look on his face it’s apparent they’re talking about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron supposes it was inevitable that someone would reach out to Vic. He shrugs at Robert, only sorry that the other man has to lie for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The living room is a bit more lived in than the kitchen, it has touches of comfort and some framed photographs on the mantle. The couch looks comfortable, long enough for Robert to stretch out on, and there are too many pillows along it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Throw pillows accent a couch, Aaron.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His inner Robert scolds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does she even know I’m out?” Robert’s rubbing his hand along the back of his neck in a gesture that Aaron recognizes as anxiety from too many business calls in the portacabin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron has a guess. Vic’s the worst liar he’s ever met, and she’s aged into even more of a town gossip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not something that just slips out, Vic.” Robert rolls his eyes and perches on the back of the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron drifts over to the photographs, needing to know what Robert values enough to frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He woke up one afternoon on the couch surrounded by shattered photographs of them. He couldn’t remember much from the night before, but the cut on this thumb that matched the smudged bloody fingerprint told him enough. He’d stepped on shards of glass hidden in corners and in the weave of the carpet for weeks. The pictures inside had little bends and tears that couldn’t be fixed. The frames were a loss. Aaron had tucked a couple of his favorite pictures into an envelope and thrown out the rest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s one of them from the wedding, looking impossibly young and happy. Robert champagne-drunk and leaning into Aaron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a bigger more professional one of Vic’s lot. And next to it a picture that Aaron recognizes from years back. Young Robert with a lamb, knees scuffed and hair askew, leaning against Sarah. Aaron had packed it with Robert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s two of Seb, one of him as a baby on Liv’s lap. She’s sitting between the two of them, a complete family unit. The other is one where he’s older than Aaron’s ever seen him. He looks around five, there’s cake icing on his cheek, and he’s so unmistakably Robert’s that Aaron’s heart clenches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances around and sees there’s none of him as a young man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too.” Robert sighs and hangs up behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron turns, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Sounds like she’s hearing from my lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert nods, “Your mum called her. Says you just left without any warning four days ago, and that only Liv’s heard from you.” He frowns, “Vic told her I was out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron looks up at the ceiling in frustration, “Well, at least it won’t be so much of a surprise for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert approaches him, looks over Aaron’s shoulder at the photographs, and blushes lightly. “I had them up on my wall the whole time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks sad, staring into the past, “Lost a couple in a cell move, but kept the important ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How many times did they move you? Where did you end up? What happened to you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron looks down so Robert can’t see how much he needs to know, how much he’s aching for hints of the last decade and a half.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Liv alright?” Robert’s voice is careful, like he’s not sure what he can ask about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron nods, “She works in a gallery. She’s good at selling colorful squiggles to posh idiots.” He smiles fondly, “Her words, not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert smiles, “She always was good at getting money off of me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron huffs out a laugh, “You were her first mark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stand there for a moment, in memories of years ago. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable, just familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Seb alright?” Something in Aaron needs to know. He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> that boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s face shutters. He shakes his head, “Wouldn’t know. She sent me the papers and I signed them. Gave up all rights.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows thickly, “He doesn’t need a dad like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron steps towards him, wanting to offer comfort, but Robert waves him off, standing himself up straighter and shaking off the emotion. “The last word I got was that picture.” He gestures at the later one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deflates a little, looking at Aaron, “I never meant to take him from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t take him from me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> did.” Aaron sighs, “And I don’t blame her. I was in a state for a while there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert searches Aaron’s face for the truth, “I just wanted you to have the family you’d always wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron swallows, feeling the shadows of long lost dreams. It’s been long enough that they only hurt as echoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm,” Robert clears his throat uncertainly. “Did you and he ever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron shakes his head emphatically, “He’s got a step-daughter. Violet. She’s eight. She lives with his ex most of the time, but she comes to ours for a week here and there,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s from a family that makes the Dingles look quiet. There’s always nieces and nephews somewhere, climbin’ all over the garden or sleeping in the spare room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bitter knot of guilt that’s settled in his gut twists and tightens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told him I didn’t want kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air in his lungs feels stale and sticky with the admission. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That having our families around was enough for me, and I’d never really pictured being a dad. Not at our age. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>relieved</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Told me he agreed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron scrubs his hands across his face, shifting his weight uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t tell him I’d only ever imagined that with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s face twists in pain and he seems to fold in on himself. He backs up to the couch and puts it between them, hugging his arms to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron follows him, sits down heavily, puts his face in his hands, and sighs. “I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty, Rob.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Robert move around the space, propping himself on the armrest. Hears him breath in and say quietly, “You didn’t. It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron waits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had this picture of you feeding </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> son.” His voice breaks and it makes Aaron look up to where Robert is perched, staring at the photographs. “And I used to stare at it and try to remember how it felt to be in a home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of my cellmates ripped it up, can’t remember what I’d said to make him. So I started making it up.” He sighs, looking at his hands. “Eventually I let myself believe you’d made a new one, with a baby on your knee, Seb the doting older brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that even in Robert’s dreams he’d been hoping for Aaron to be happy makes Aaron put his hand out on the cushion that separates them, drawing Robert’s attention back from memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry you never got to be the amazing dad you would have been.” He keeps his voice quiet, needs to let Robert know that it’s not just Aaron that lost that dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert tenses, but Aaron continues undaunted, shifting closer to him. “You loved him enough to give him a normal life. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, and he deserved to know you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert looks over and then away, sniffing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron stays where he is, but reaches out a tentative hand and places it on Robert’s thigh. “You stepped up, and you did everything for him. I hope she’s told him that. I hope he knows how selfless you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stays still and waits until Robert shifts slightly, turning his body to Aaron. He tilts his head up to look at him in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s cheeks are wet, and his eyes are shining, but he looks a little lighter than he has.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly removes his hand, shifts backwards, and leaves a space big enough for Robert to occupy without touching Aaron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert wipes his face, sniffs, and looks at the seat. He slowly moves to the cushion, side against the arm rest, a sizeable gap between them, but not the miles he’d needed in the kitchen. Aaron’s chest warms with his proximity.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come back to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit together in silence. Aaron letting himself feel for the first time the reality of what he’s about to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He licks his lips nervously, pulls his phone from his pocket and stares at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room is silent, but he can feel Robert watching him. “I have to face this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts so he’s got one leg tucked up on the couch, chest facing Robert. His knee is so close to Robert’s leg that he can feel the heat of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s going to hate me for this. They all will. And I deserve that.” He swallows, looking down at the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert closes the gap, putting his hand on Aaron’s knee and squeezing lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron puts his hand on top of Robert’s, keeps his voice steady as he stares down at the way they overlay, “I’m sure about us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert doesn’t move his hand, even when Aaron lifts his and turns on his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>134 notifications.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s text messages and voicemails and missed calls and WhatsApp notifications. It’s overwhelming and painful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at Robert, “I don’t know how…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes and inhales, “I never meant to hurt anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s hand moves back and forth, soothing pressure and warmth through his jeans. “I know.” His voice is deep and loving, and it feels like a blanket wrapped around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets himself sit there, with Robert’s soft touch on his leg keeping him from panicking. Robert’s silent support as unquestioning and deep as it ever was.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re about to break a good man’s heart and all you can think about is Robert.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought gives Aaron some resolve. He opens his eyes, exhales the air that’s been held deep in his lungs, and sits up. Robert’s hand leaves his leg and his skin feels chilled where it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert stands, “I haven’t had a shower yet, I’ll give you some space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron’s impossibly grateful for the kindness of distance. Can’t imagine doing what he’s about to do while Robert is in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other man walks to the stairs, his voice rough, “Call up if you need me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron nods, and moves to stand so he can anxiously pace while he calls. He can’t help himself from moving to Robert before the other man retreats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles when Robert doesn’t tense as he approaches. He leans in carefully and presses a kiss to a freckled cheek, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert exhales shakily, and Aaron can tell he needed the confirmation that Aaron’s choosing him. He steps back, giving Robert space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert turns and walks upstairs and Aaron is left staring at the screen in his hands, the contact name he has yet to press.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He waits until the ceiling above him creaks with Robert’s footsteps, waits until he can calm his racing heart enough that he might get out enough words for Will to understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tapping the screen has never felt so hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will picks up after two rings. There’s noise in the background.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s at work. You’re going to break his heart and he’ll have to go back and make someone a latte.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aaron?!” There’s concern and intensity in the voice in his ear. “Wait, one sec, let me go back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear Will moving into the store room, the bustle cutting out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Aaron. Are you alright? Where are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clears his throat, “I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Will.” He barely made it five words and he’s already a sniffling mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a hitch of breath on the other end. “What? Aaron, whatever you’re in, we can fix it. Just tell me where you are, I’ll be there as fast as I can drive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron shakes his head even though he knows he can’t be seen. “You can’t— There’s nothing to fix. I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares up at the ceiling, searching for a series of words that encompass what he’s done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not coming back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear Will’s breathing quicken, “Aaron what have you done?” His voice is shaking. “Please, babe, I’ll get in my car right now. Say the word and I’m there, just stay with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He thinks you’re dying.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guilt rolls over Aaron, turning his stomach to lead, “It’s not like that. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m alright. I just—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He runs his nails across his scalp, pushing fingertips into the nape of his neck, pressing at the knots that are forming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t love you like I should.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Will makes any sounds in reply he can’t hear them over the rushing in his own ears, so he pushes ahead, needing to say enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You deserve to be someone’s priority, and I love someone else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks over at the photograph of their wedding, “I always have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence that stretches out between them surprises Aaron. Will’s never been one to hold back his thoughts, to simmer. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“You’re a bastard.” His tone is controlled and dark and biting. “You let me think something had happened to you, that you were dead somewhere in a ditch for </span><em><span>four</span></em> <em><span>days</span></em><span>, all because you couldn’t be bothered to break up in person?” </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Will’s voice is picking up steam, and Aaron knows he deserves to hear every syllable, “You couldn’t just fucking tell me in person? Thought a phone call was enough? After I’ve been sat here, wondering if I need to call the police and file a missing persons?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know if he—” Aaron wants to explain, to get Will to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you had your time.” Will silences him, “I knew you’d been off for weeks, but I let myself think you were in one of your lows, and when you disappeared all I could do was ask myself why you hadn’t come to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why you hadn’t called </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron can tell he’s crying, wants to wrap his arms around the man that rebuilt him and loved him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you weren’t low. You were fucking planning on leaving me. On walking out without even the decency to say it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron knows his face is red and blotchy, tears running down his cheeks, “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can picture the way Will’s jaw is set and angry, the hatred on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care, Aaron. I don’t want your apologies. I want you to have sat me down and </span>
  <em>
    <span>respected</span>
  </em>
  <span> me enough to end it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron looks down at his feet, “I didn’t know how. You didn’t deserve it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The scoff on the other end of the phone is cutting, “But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved</span>
  </em>
  <span> my last eight calls going straight to voicemail? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved</span>
  </em>
  <span> hearing from Liv that you’re alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s silence as Aaron lets Will collect himself, hears the quiet sniff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When we first started this, when </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> kissed </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You told me you were ready for real. You told me you had a hard time, but that I made you think of a future.” Will sounds so broken that Aaron has to sit, heart pounding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I haven’t imagined a life in a while, I can with you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We built a life together, Aaron.” He inhales, “And I asked you at every turn. At </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> turn, if this was alright. If you were ready for more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know you don’t want to get married again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All you had to do. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing you had to do, was be honest with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Aaron has to say. Has to let Will know that what they’d had wasn’t nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bitter laugh in his ear isn’t something he’s ever heard from his partner. “No you weren’t. Not if you loved someone else. Not if you could throw us away without a word.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron breathes out a sob, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but I loved you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron wipes a tear off his cheek, swallowing. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have my stuff out of your house by the end of the week. I’ll text you when it’s done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phone goes silent and Aaron puts it down beside him, letting his face fall into his hands to cry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzes next to him, and through his tears he can see it’s Chas. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shouldn’t find out from Will. She should hear it from me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi mum.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aaron!” The relief in her voice is palpable. “You’re alright? You’re safe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs, “Yeah.” It’s embarrassing that his voice can’t remain steady on a single word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, love. Just come home. We’ll figure everything out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ended it with Will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She goes silent. “It’s him, isn’t it? Robert.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not his fault.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s begging her to understand. To be in his corner. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs heavily, “He’s not been good for you. He’s hurt you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, “I know, but I’ve hurt him too, and I can’t— I can’t keep on like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were happy with Will. He’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He’s grateful she’s mellowed over the years, because she doesn’t scream or scold. She just sounds sad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need him.” He bites his lip, needing the sting to keep him going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he needs me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The line is silent for too long, it makes Aaron’s palms tingle in anticipation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t wait for you, you know. When you come back, he’s not going to pick up the pieces again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron sees red, “I don’t need someone to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fix</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, mum. I’m not broken.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear her start to backpedal, so he speaks over her protests, “I love Robert. I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robert</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs, “And he loves me. Cracked, flawed. He loves me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That stops her, somehow. “Alright.” She sounds defeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s shocked at her agreement, but doesn’t want to scare her any more than he has this week. “I’ll call you when I know what we’re going to do. I’m not going to disappear on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You were going to run to Paris once.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Aaron.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hanging up the phone this time feels better. Like he’s done the right thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear the water turn off above him, the shuffle of Robert. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Does he still hum when he dries off or did they break him of that?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallows around the thought. Shakes it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A message pops up, Will’s sister Samantha.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’d better hope I never see you in a dark alley, Aaron.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows more will pour in soon, people disappointed in him, furious with him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hating</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. He’s surprised to notice his hands are shaking, the adrenaline coursing through him, making him shiver and his stomach roll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart is pounding and his breathing has picked up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grounding truths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I am sitting on a couch. I am inside Robert’s living room. There is a pillow behind my back. I can feel the wood boards below my shoes. Robert is upstairs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Robert is upstairs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Robert is upstairs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t remember standing, but his feet have carried him to the bottom of the stairs, phone abandoned on the couch behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>——————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Robert?” He calls as he’s walking up. Knows he shouldn’t surprise the other man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rounds the corner at the top, passing a small second room, to see a closed wooden door in front of him. There’s shuffling noises behind it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I come in?” He speaks to the door, the strange bounce back of his own voice making it feel like he’s speaking too loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The movement stops, “One second.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron nods, and stands back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert is moving again, sounds of his feet on carpet, and a drawer opening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit.” Robert lets out a groan of pain, and Aaron’s hand is on the doorknob in a heartbeat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes open the door and is met with the view of Robert, naked to the waist, and holding his side in pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s mottled in deep yellow and green bruises, there’s surgical tape over a wound, and healing stitches criss crossing his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron freezes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert tenses, looking around, stepping so his back is to the dresser. “Get out.” His eyes are wild, voice strained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron shrinks back, “I’m sorry, I thought—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron opens his mouth without more to say, hands up, wanting to help Robert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert crosses his arms in front of him, retreating further, “Get the fuck out, Aaron.” The twist of his body is clearly hurting him, his jaw tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> your help.” His voice is tense, sharp with consonants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s that that keeps Aaron rooted in place. Makes him hold his ground while Robert cowers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can <em>want</em> it though.” Aaron keeps his own voice gentle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert’s shaking, and Aaron hates how many of his ribs he can see clearly beneath skin stained with weeks-old bruises. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re stuck like that for what feels like hours, Aaron watching as Robert’s tremors calm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can help with the tape, if you need.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert looks like he can’t decide, like Aaron’s touch might hurt more than the strain he’s putting himself through trying to reach awkward angles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lowers his arms, though, fiddling with the dressing at the edges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to talk about it.” He looks up, face dark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron nods, “I won’t push.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert picks up the bandages he has on the dresser top, showing a cut on his back that he clearly can’t reach. He exhales shakily, holding the supplies out towards Aaron. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron walks forward, can see Robert watching him closely in the mirror, eyes tracking his approach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes the gauze and antiseptic, eyeing the wound. It’s clearly been taken care of by a doctor, and it’s healing well. He pushes out some gel onto the gauze and sets the tube down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robert’s eyes never leave the mirror, intent on Aaron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron places the gauze, then carefully applies tape around it, sealing all sides. The thin tape between his fingertips and Robert’s skin is warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can feel Robert breath, can see the way his shoulder freckles are less distinct from lack of sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stays in place for a beat longer than strictly necessary, tracing the outline of the square of gauze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He steps back, lets Robert turn around to face him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaron waits until he’s looking to reach out slowly and thread their fingers together, Robert’s left hand in his right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tries to show how he feels in his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're nearing the end, I promise!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robert shrugs on a thick jumper, covering up the injuries that are making Aaron want to stroke his fingers across mottled skin. To kiss them better and whisper promises that he won’t let him be hurt again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s grateful for the barrier even as he hates it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was…” Robert gestures vaguely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron can’t place the question for a moment, stuck on Robert’s hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Telling them?” Robert supplies for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron shrugs, knowing his face portrays how horrible he feels. He’ll cry again if he talks about it, can feel the sharp sting of tears behind his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I broke a heart.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert studies him, then nods. They’d never needed words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that falls is heavy with potential, waiting for either of them to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at Robert, taking in the reality of him. His hair is rumpled from the towel, shorter and more subdued than it had ever been when they were together. It screams of a cheap prison barber, functional and uniform. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tracks down from Robert’s face, cataloguing the man before him. His feet are still bare from the shower, soft joggers hang from his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the lingering touch of Robert’s gaze in return, the way it stays on him. Not wary, but hungry. Trying to take in every detail and change, trying to soak in the years he missed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You meant it, didn’t you?” Robert’s voice breaks the silence, full of quiet awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron frowns, the day’s exhaustion finally catching up with him, utterly at a loss for what Robert is on about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert moves forward, quicker than he’s been all day, until he’s right in Aaron’s space, “You really meant it when you said you’re choosing us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes are searching Aaron’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course I did.” Aaron’s voice is rough, but he knows Robert needs this last assurance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds Robert’s gaze with utter certainty, unafraid of what that means. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert must see what he wants in Aaron’s eyes, because he chokes out a broken sob of “God.” And closes the distance between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s overwhelming to be enveloped by Robert. To have his arms wrapped around Aaron, nose pressed into the crook of his neck, holding him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron’s frozen for an instant before he lets himself lean into it, the magnitude of everything he’s done all day overwhelming. He needs this, needs the assurance that Robert is in this too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loves the light touch of Robert’s hair by his ear, the way his forearms squeeze against his waist, hands gripping at Aaron’s lower back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his own touch light, knows that beneath his layer Robert is still hurt, but his hands need to settle on Robert’s shoulder blades, feeling the racing heart against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, feeling Robert settle and breath. Letting his own rhythm match the other man’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels whole in a way he didn’t know he’d been missing. Like he’d been living so long without the pieces he’d forgotten how they fit, and now that they’re back together he wants to weld them in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s surprised by the soft kiss to the tendon at the side of his neck, delicate and sweet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s breath against his neck is so hot that it makes him shiver, surprised by the spike of </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> that courses through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert presses kiss after kiss to his skin, inching up his neck to his jaw. Arriving at his ear and nipping lightly on the lobe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron can’t help the groan that pulls from him, the way it feels like there’s not enough air in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to clutch at Robert, wants to grab him, so he slides his hands across the broad back, bringing them around to Robert’s chest, and onto his upper arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tightens his grip as Robert trails kisses across his jawline, teasing and achingly slow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert hovers mere millimeters from his lips, breath ghosting across Aaron’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much.” It’s said at barely a whisper, but it echoes through every fiber of Aaron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants Robert’s words branded onto him, wants the world to know that this man loves him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts forward onto his toes and brings their mouths together, needing to taste him, to sink into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert responds eagerly, Aaron’s gasp swallowed up by his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s desperate for Robert’s touch, keening as Robert’s hands pull him closer, roaming across his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world disappears around them, replaced by the strength of Robert’s arms, the slick slide of his tongue, the solidness of his shoulders under Aaron’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every point of contact is heat and electricity, his chest tingling with the light brush of Robert’s against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings a hand up to Robert’s hair, touch light and unsure for a moment, until Robert bites at his lower lip, the sensation sharp, Robert’s want clear. Aaron scratches his nails along the other man’s scalp, tugging lightly at the short strands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert breaks the kiss to inhale, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed, nodding eagerly at Aaron’s look of uncertainty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He whispers against Aaron’s lips, and Aaron pulls him in by the neck, needing his kiss. He presses fingers into the divots between bones on his nape, keeping Robert in place as he deepens the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s hands roam freely, as if mapping Aaron’s body. His fingertips fit underneath the waistband of Aaron’s jeans, finding hints of skin to explore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron forgets himself for a moment, pressing their bodies closer, and Robert tears his mouth away, hissing in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, sorry!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron moves to let go, but Robert shakes his head, jaw tight, keeping Aaron in place with his grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give me a moment.” There’s strain in Robert’s voice, but it’s not tinged with fear anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks, inhaling to steady himself, before leaning back in to kiss Aaron slow and honey-sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert is more controlled, deliberate with his touch, calming their rapidly beating hearts with the soft slide of his nose against Aaron’s, his hands coming up to cradle Aaron’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron’s lost in the feeling, in the kisses of people who have all the time in the world. They feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert murmurs a quiet hum of contentment against his lips. Aaron can feel them both smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert brings their foreheads together, skims his thumbs across Aaron’s cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re here.” His eyes are bright and fond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron nods, smiling back, “I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s hand cups Aaron’s cheek, “I haven’t let myself dream of this in years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron goes to nod, when he’s overtaken suddenly by a yawn, cracking his jaw loudly. He’s sure Robert could feel it in his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert laughs, “Good to know I’m as captivating as ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that—” Aaron’s stopped by another yawn, and he wipes at his watering eyes with a sleeve, “Couldn’t sleep last night.” He mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little wrinkles at the corners of Robert’s eyes deepen as he smiles, looking years younger. “Lucky I’ve a bed right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron glances over at the massive bed, piled high with pillows and comforters. He’s never wanted to be somewhere more, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his heart that Robert’s not ready. He bites his lip, trying to find a reply that won’t feel like a rebuff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert holds up a hand, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes go sad, “I’m not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see Robert shrinking again, can see him retreating mentally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep sounds perfect.” Aaron keeps his tone warm, assuring.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches out, wanting contact, links Robert’s fingers with his, and pulls him to the bed. Robert occupies himself rearranging it while Aaron kneels to untie his shoes and kick them off towards a corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve enough pillows to make a fort.” Aaron teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert surveys the nest he’s built, “I went a bit mad at the store, I just wanted…” He stares at the wall, searching for a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron remembers the numbers of blankets he’d layered over himself after prison, just wanting to feel warm after the chill had felt unending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To feel safe?” Aaron offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert looks at him, nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron tilts his head, “You let me know if you ever don’t feel that way? With me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert nods too fast, and Aaron steps in, needing a serious answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, Rob. I won’t be hurt. I can back off, I’ve slept on a couch more than once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For months after you left.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert shakes his head emphatically, “I’m a mess, I know, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He brings his hand up to the side of Aaron’s neck, “You make me feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not worse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron nods, heart fluttering with Robert’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, to bed with you.” Robert points to the space he’s cleared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron rolls his eyes, but climbs into the middle of the sea of blankets and pillows, sighing at the luxury of the mattress. Robert pulls the covers over him, then lies down on the outer layer, a barrier of down between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay their heads down on neighboring pillows, rearranging until they’re each on their sides facing each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron pulls one arm out to be on Robert’s side of the duvet. He strokes Robert’s temple, pulling a small smile from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always knew you’d look good with a little grey.” Aaron rumbles, thumb stroking across the short hairs above Robert’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert makes a face, “Blonde hair goes lighter in the sun.” and Aaron puts a finger on his lips to shush him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re old, it’s grey.” His hand shifts down to the space between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert squawks in mock offense. “I’m only forty seven!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron hums, eyes glittering with humor, “Ancient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert leans in and presses a quick kiss to his nose, making Aaron’s face scrunch up, “Well, guess you’re stuck with an old man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Got…” He looks up, pretending to think, “Thirty three more years of ya by my count.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s eyes go soft and fond, “I think you said til eighty</span>
  <em>
    <span> at least</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes Aaron’s heart leap, hand moving to stroke his thumb over Robert’s eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s hand comes up to circle Aaron’s wrist lightly, thumb stroking his pulse point. The softness of the touch sends shivers up Aaron’s arm, makes goose pimples stand up on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels his eyelids getting heavy, keeps blinking them open as Robert draws circles on his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert huffs out a breath when Aaron struggles his eyes open for the fifth time, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron blinks blearily, biting his lip. “I can’t handle it if I wake up and this was all a dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert props himself up on one elbow, running his hand up to align their palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be here when you wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron looks at him, “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rearranges himself on the pillow, squeezing Aaron’s hand lightly, soothing heat passing between their palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron thinks of the ring downstairs. The promise he knows he’ll make again some day. The years stretched out before them, full of potential.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets his breathing slow, lets the room go fuzzy around him, and falls asleep listening to the quiet rhythm of Robert’s breathing.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's all, folks!</p><p>Thanks so much for reading, it's meant a huge amount to me over the past few days.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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